Devils Tombstone

Camping at Devils Tombstone was a success.  I rolled in a little after 10 pm and families were already nestled into their campsites. Scattered glows of campfires beneath the dense forest canopy.  I decide to park my bike behind a large sign on the edge of the entrance parking lot, so that my bike isn't easily seen.  I first get my camo tarp draped, so I can conceal my headlamp while I get the tent tied to my bike.  I crawl inside the tent and try to close my eyes, but I can hear the strolling voices of some Irish tourists. Or at least I like to assume they are.  I'm set up between the sign and a park bench, other benches are scattered about 100 feet from one another on a large picnic area.  Some late night campers gather at one of the neighboring tables to discuss how their sons look just like them, how easily it would be for them to go down the wrong path at any moment in their youth, how much that scares them, and to smoke heavily on some weed which the fathers are passing amongst themselves.  I find the whole thing very endearing.  One of them says "is that a motorcycle over there?" My front tire pokes out from the front of my tarp.  I'm ready to shank anyone who approaches my tent.  They realize someone is probably sleeping g under that mess of tarp, and they ease up on their flashlights and conversation to make their way back to their accommodations.  I again try to shut my eyes.  The sounds of buzzing and cricketing and chirping things roars all night in this Catskills land.  I wake up at 2am to what I think might be a growling animal a ways off.  I imagine a yogi bear coming to scrounge for picnic scraps, hoping it doesn't smell nor desire my richly odorous "Parmigiano Reggiano" naturally imported from Italy. I think the store was trying to move it off the shelves because it was so cheap.  Got to love those markdowns.  My 5am alarm was too early so I reset t for 6 and then consecutively 7, and that's when the Asian tourists rolled up, and I finally succumbed to the warming of the morning and a committal to rolling up my camp.  I whisked off a couple friendly little 8 legged wayward hitchikers from the motorcycle, and I utilized my picnic bench for breakfast. Devils Tombstone was a success.